


Funny You're The Broken One(But I'm The Only One Who Needed Saving)

by Lindajoskid



Category: Glee, Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindajoskid/pseuds/Lindajoskid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragged to an art event by Justin, Brian figures he'll get a blow job to pass the time and kill his boredom. Instead he finds himself an unwilling mentor for a young woman by the name of Santana who covers her broken heart with viscous words and quick wit to match his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funny You're The Broken One(But I'm The Only One Who Needed Saving)

Brian Kinney stared around himself for the thousand time that night, trying to figure out how Justin managed to drag him out to these boring fucking art events, and how he was going to make the little twat pay when they got back to their hotel room. He _hated_ these fucking things, unless of course it was _Justin’s_ art on display, at which point he became what he was supposed to be-proud husband of Justin Taylor-Kinney, artist extraordinaire.

 

He watched as Justin worked the crowd, his mop of blonde hair bobbing as he listened to some old queen wax poetic about artwork Brian could care less about. He grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter, taking a hearty sip while scanning the room for a possible trick, wondering if he could get a decent blowjob from the cute bartender who had been eye fucking him for the last hour. He knew Justin wouldn’t mind-he rarely looked for tricks these days and he was mind-blowingly bored, why not get blown? He laughed at himself, feeling all the drinks he had consumed starting to take effect. Getting older was a fucking bitch (though if anyone asked, he was thirty, _thank you very much)_ and he couldn’t handle his liquor like he used to. Justin thought it was hilarious, nicknaming him Old Man until Brian had showed him how much of an old man he was by fucking his ass into oblivion and forcing the younger man to sheepishly take the title back. Brian smirked at the memory, staring at his husband as he remembered the look on Justin’s face as he fucked him for the fifth time that night.

 

_“Fuck Brian…how many more rounds are we going to go?” Justin had asked, Brian’s dick still buried in his ass, his face flushed and tired looking._

_Brian looked back at him, smiling at how beautiful his husband was, and spent he looked. “Who’s the old man now, Mr. Kinney?” Justin groaned at that, knowing he had been beaten at his own game._

Brian caught his husband’s eye, wiggling his eyebrow and nodding towards the bartender. Justin looked where Brian was indicating, eyes landing on the bartender, roving appreciatively. Then, he glanced back at Brian, a question in his eyes. Brian nodded, telling his husband without words what his intentions were. Justin just smirked, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. _Have fun_ , his eyes said as he turned back to the art queen. Brian smirked again, turning on his heel and making his way to the bar.

 

His signature smirk in place, he walked casually over, weaving through clusters of other patrons, clearing his throat to get the bartender’s attention. The bartender smiled, his eyes roaming over Brian’s body before meeting his eyes.

 

“Hello sir, is there something I can get you this evening?”

 

Brian leaned forward, elbows resting on the bar, eyeing the bartender’s mouth before meeting his gaze. “Well do you know where I can get a decent blowjob?”

 

The bartender’s smile widened knowingly as he leaned in closer. “Well _sir_ as a matter of fact I do. I can get that for you right now if you would like. There’s an alley right outside –”

 

All of a sudden the bartender stopped talking, leaning away from Brian and directing his attention to the three people standing beside him, two young women and a shorter boy who all looked to be still nursing on their mother’s tit. The young man reminded Brian of Emmett, in that his choice of clothing was atrocious, and a sore sight for his eyes. His gaze shifted to the two women, first stopping on the brunette with the big nose who chose that moment to speak.

 

“Hello, we would like three Shirley Temples please.”

 

Brian winced at how loud the girl was, reminding him of a younger, prettier Debbie Novotny, only just as loud as the current one.

 

“What the fuck Rachel? I don’t want a fucking Shirley Temple. I want something harder if I’m being forced to hang out with you and Liberace tonight.”

 

This came from the other girl, who Brian noted was absolutely beautiful. She was an inch or two taller than the loudmouth, with black flowing hair, flawless brown skin and brown eyes set into a face that would make a model jealous, and her dress was tight in all the right places, accentuating all of her curves.

 

“Santana be as it may, I don’t think it would be appropriate at this type of event.”

The brunette stated primly, glaring at the girl-Santana until she rolled her eyes and let out a slight huff. The boy placed a placating hand on both women’s shoulder, trying to ease the tension between the two.

 

“Santana, I have wine back at the loft. You can drink yourself into oblivion when we get home.”

 

Brian snorted into his glass, earning him a glare from the loudmouth, and a scowl from Santana. He smirked, taking a pull from his glass as he continued to listen to the conversation beside him.

 

“ I am never letting you guys drag me to some boring ass art show again _sober._ I could be at home right now, getting my Rizzles on.” Brian arched his eyebrows, trying to figure out just what the hell a Rizzles was.

 

“Yes Santana, watch some fictional non lesbians on TV while drowning your misery in cheap wine. That will make you feel better.” This was said by the Emmett lookalike, his tone sarcastic. Santana crossed her arms, glaring at her friends in exasperation. “This is just some lame ass gathering for old people.”  At that, the shorter, louder brunette turned on Santana, her face bright red.

 

“ _Santana!_ ” She hissed loudly at the other girl, her brown eyes wide with what Brian could only assume was horror at Santana calling _him_ old. “This is only the premiere art exhibit of Parker Ambrose, who happens to be artistically brilliant!”

 

That got a derisive snort out of the taller girl, while she rolled her eyes dramatically.

“I’m sorry that I like to do normal things, Hobbit, like shop or see movies with hot chicks. This is totally your thing, not mine. I only came because Kurt told me there was free alcohol.”

 

Brian frankly had heard enough, growing impatient to be sucked off by the bartender, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to escape to wherever he had told Brian there was privacy. And the fact that the girl, Santana, put _old_ into that sentence, that was just uncalled for. He drained his glass, putting it down loudly and drawing six pairs of eyes in his direction.

 

“Listen, _children_ , why don’t you run along home to mommy and daddy and play with the other kids your age, hm?” He stared at them challengingly, watching as Santana’s eyes narrowed, and the other two looked like stranded fish. His eyes wandered to the bartender, licking his lips seductively. The bartender returned his look, smiling slightly, his eyes wandering to Brian’s crotch.

 

“Excuse me, _Gramps,_ me and my two friends here are trying to get a drink so we can enjoy ourselves at this boring geriatric get together that you and your falsie wearing friends are having. So why don’t you go find your wheelchair and your bedpan and get out of my business afores I ends you?”  This was from Santana, who had stepped in front of her two friends protectively, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

 

Brian stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out why he felt she reminded him of someone, someone close to him. Her brown eyes bored straight into his, never blinking, her posture rigid. He began to chuckle as he straightened to his full height, easily towering over her smaller frame.

 

“Oh I’m sorry, perhaps I wasn’t clear with you… _Santana_ , that’s your name right? I am trying really hard to be patient with you and your tweenie friends, but my patience is wearing very, very thin. I don’t know what juvenile detention facility you and your two friends here escaped from, but please feel free to get your fucking drink and go back to it. Some us have things we, or people we want to be sucking our dicks.”

 

He watched in amusement as three mouths opened in shock, Santana’s face growing red in what he could only assume was shock. He smirked in satisfaction as the boy in the trio, his face bright red, turned to the bartender and quietly ordered three Shirley Temples. The other girl in the group cleared her throat, trying to ease the tension that his statement had elicited.

 

He smirked, once again leaning against the bar and watching the bartender make the three drinks. He felt eyes on him, glancing over his shoulder to catch Santana glaring at him as if she could glare him out of existence.

 

‘I thought old guys like you needed Viagra, or some sort of pump to get it up, Gramps. Guess I was wrong.” He could here the sarcasm in her tone, and he genuinely smiled, liking this girl and her determination not to be bested.

 

The shorter brunette grabbed Santana’s arm, beginning to tug her away from the bar. _“What in the world is wrong with you? Do you want us to get kicked out?”_

 

The boy was still standing there, his face seemingly to turn a darker shade of red, staring at the bartender as if he could disappear. Brian watched him, his eyes roaming pale skin, coiffed hair and a rail thin frame. He figured there would be another Emmett Honeycutt roaming the world in a few years, and shuddered at the mere thought of it.

 

“You know,” he said conversationally, moving down the bar to stand closer to the younger man, seeing that he was actually taller than he thought. “You really should invest in better friends, maybe friends that don’t have _vaginas_ and act like toy chihuahas.”

 

The boy’s jaw clenched, and he turned suddenly, his face tight in anger. “And maybe you could learn not to be so rude. Those are my _friends_ , and I would really appreciate it if you would keep your unsolicited advice to yourself.”

 

And with that, the boy turned back to the bar where the bartender had placed down his drinks, paying him and then grabbing all three drinks. Brian watched as he balanced them with practiced ease, turning around to disappear into the crowd to find his two companions.

 

Brian snorted to himself, wondering when he had ever let himself be cut down by people who still thought Justin Beiber was an American icon. A throat clearing brought him back to the present, his head swiveling back to the bartender, who was now openly staring at his crotch, licking his lips slowly.

 

“I’m on lunch now sir, if you’d like to join me?”

 

Brian once again smirked, feeling his dick twitch in anticipation of what was coming. Him,soon enough.

 

“Lead the way.”


End file.
